


Anodyne

by cosm1cat



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, DarkSparks, F/F, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Lobahound, Implied Lobalore, It's Complicated™, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Wraith-centric, darksparks said slowburn friends to lovers rights and we're here for that, god this is so cheesy I have no excuse, it's about the Yearning™, listen if respawn won't give Wraith nice things I'll just have to take matters into my own hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosm1cat/pseuds/cosm1cat
Summary: "She brings Wraith in closer, pressing their bodies flush with each other, massaging her shoulders with great care, soothing the broken shell of the cocksure woman the world knew from the games - knowing this was the one place Wraith allowed herself to be truly vulnerable, to lay down her armor after another war, to tear down her walls and just be herself, not having to worry about whoever that person was or turned out to be."-The more Wraith digs up about her past, the more she realizes that some things are better left buried - and her feelings for Natalie are definitely on that list. But maybe she doesn't have to be the one unearthing them.
Relationships: Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	Anodyne

**Author's Note:**

> My own interpretation of Wraith's new voice lines aside, this is mostly inspired by Jel's art - I don't think I need to tell you to check out her work if you're reading this but still, go do that. There are also some references to this season's loading screen "Gossip Boy", as well as the events from Broken Ghost and the Mirage-centric Twitter comics thereafter. 
> 
> Needless to say, this takes place sometime during the first weeks of Season 7.

Balancing a handful of drinks in her arms on a Friday night is not exactly unusual for Wraith. She’s no stranger to bartending, having done more than her share of it at the Paradise Lounge, initially as a way to Elliott back for his help in getting back on her feet after breaking out of the IMC detention facility, and later because despite being an absolute pain in the neck, he did undeniably possess the ability to drone out the voices, and that alone was a quality worth enduring hours of bad jokes for.

Yet she can't help but feel like there's something _off_ about tonight, somehow. As she pushes open the door to the bar’s private side room lounge, a nagging feeling of discomfort lingers and eventually nestles in her gut. Another version of her passes through the void, commenting on her surroundings, cold and sharp as ice coursing through her veins.

_where the hell are you?_

She’s grateful for the way the loud music coming from the bar is reduced to a mere muffled drone vibrating outside the walls as the door closes behind her again and the voice fades from existence along with it. Her eyes set on the group sitting by the sectional sofas around the karaoke machine, watching Ajay and Octavio’s performance with amused, lighthearted smiles and laid-back postures before she becomes intensely aware of why she’s suddenly feeling so out of place.

There’s a certain kind of warmth radiating from the group tonight, one that wasn’t quite there as fully in the Seasons prior. An intimate, cozy atmosphere that bounces off electric grins and extends beyond mere camaraderie. It’s in every playful tone uttered by the group, every pat on the back, every bump of their shoulders; enough to fill her with something inexplicably mellow, sealing an unknown void buried deep inside her.

They were starting to feel like a chosen family.

That, Wraith realizes, is the problem.

She hasn’t dug up far enough yet to know whether she has any living relatives, doesn’t particularly entertain that little thought for too long because every single thing she’s been learning of her past has left a sour taste in her mouth and made the need to just stop searching altogether thrive and persevere. And sure, the other Legends are no _saints_ either, there's not a doubt in her mind about that – but still, the feeling of discomfort at her past remains, enough to make her wonder if they’d be just as welcoming towards her if only they knew the kind person she used to be. The kind of person she maybe still _is_.

Because hell, for what Wraith knows, might still lurk beneath her cool façade of disinterest. What little darkness she knows of herself may only be the tip of the iceberg – there might be more she's capable of, aside from putting a bullet through someone’s head without a twitch of an eye.

The night she found her birthday, Natalie had told her that it didn't matter what was written on that file, that she was just glad she'd gotten to know the real Renee.

And Wraith had always wondered who that was. Had searched this realm for answers, had turned every table, knocked on every door, had turned this world upside down trying to find that out.

And all she'd been left with was an inkling of just what _kind_ of person the real Renee might've been.

Wraith pushes down those dark thoughts already clawing at her skin, clinging to her mind like dark tendrils - a practiced habit of hers, polished to perfection.

She scans the room. Revenant, Caustic, and Crypto had not been invited, and Horizon hadn’t quite warmed up to the group enough yet to join in on the celebration, but aside from Pathfinder sulking in a corner and Bloodhound sitting by the pool table sharpening… _something_ , everyone else is huddled together in probably one of the rarest displays of camaraderie the group shared outside the arena. The way Natalie’s face lights up with bubbling laughter as Loba whispers something in her ear is enough to tear up the last bit of Wraith’s reserve, and she can no longer avoid wearing a gentle smile herself as she approaches the group.

She has to hope the dim lighting in the room is enough to disguise it, somehow.

“Here. Pick your poison.” Before she can finish setting all the drinks she’d brought over from the bar down on the coffee table in front of them, Octavio sprints towards her and yanks a random glass off her hand with an anticipatorily apologetic grin. “¡Thanks, _Chica!_ I’m parched from all this singing!”

Ajay carries on with the song by herself, alternating between rolling her eyes and shooting him one of her famous _Silva Special_ death glares as he proceeds to down the drink mid-song. Natalie excitedly reaches for her second blue cocktail of the evening while Loba and Eliott fight over the Daiquiri as soon as Wraith places it on the table – well, Elliott mostly ends up conceding after a pointed raise of Loba’s eyebrow, but he still lasted longer than Wraith thought, all things considered. The sour taste of apple and liquor swirls around her tongue as Wraith sips on her drink – no reason to give up a favorite just because of the crowd’s potential (and likely, if she’s honest) judgment, especially since most of them were smart enough to dish it out quietly enough, if at all.

She walks behind the sofas and away from the group to watch the scene play out before her, inevitably giving in to the growing feeling of discomfort crawling up her spine. Gibraltar belts along to the song in a surprisingly smooth voice as Octavio now animatedly dances along to what is very clearly a power ballad in an undeniably inebriated manner much to Ajay’s dismay, while Loba all but (ironically enough) wolf-whistles at him and _damn_ , Wraith still feels so _terribly_ out of place, like she’s a complete outsider looking in, like she’s made of a darker ink that doesn’t quite belong in the painting before her.

She brings a hand to rub at the back of her neck, running it through the raven-colored hair that covered it. Perhaps that was what brought on all this uneasiness. She'd been wearing the back of it down more often at Natalie's request, tying up less of it into her characteristic bun, but she still has a hard time looking in the mirror and not seeing that picture on her file.

Her drink’s halfway through by the time she takes notice of Pathfinder’s drawn-out sigh coming from the corner. The mere sight of him would be enough to tug at anyone’s heartstrings, and there had been no shortage of attempts from the others at cheering him up tonight, but the dejected sigh is enough to make Wraith feel compelled enough to approach him.

“Hey, Path. You doing okay?”

Another long sigh and the robot's screen flickers back and forth between a happy face and a sad one. Wraith can’t help but think how dreadfully inconvenient it must be to have one’s emotions out in the cold so very openly, completely outside their control - especially given how much she usually suppressed her own.

“Hi, friend! Well, my best friend asked me _why the long face, are you still sad or were you just built that way?_ ’ earlier, and then it struck me, I still haven’t found my creator after seven seasons on the Apex Games, so maybe my plan isn’t working. If only I could find them, I could ask them if they made me with a long face, or why I am so sad.”

Wraith frowns at this from above the rim of her glass, reminding herself to give Eliott hell sometime tonight. After all the shit the three of them had been through, the last thing she needed was for their friendship to be severed because Mirage couldn’t help himself from cracking a fucking _joke_. She desperately wants her sigh to sound merely disappointed, but it’s more of an angry grunt than anything else despite her best attempts.

Old habits die hard, she supposes.

“Eliott’s an idiot. You gotta take it down a notch, Path. This isn’t healthy for you.”

Pathfinder slouches even further at that, shoulders slumping impossibly downwards in an almost exaggeratedly dejected pose that only a mechanical body could achieve.

“I know… How do you stop being sad, friend?”

How did she do it, indeed?

A sharp exhale is enough to diffuse the tension already climbing onto her shoulders, and she forces herself to offer him a sympathetic smile despite the voices already adding their own scornful responses to the same question. It’s surprising how good she’s gotten at talking over them.

_you don’t._

_does anyone?_

“Think I do it the way everybody else does. I remind myself there’s good days and bad days, and making it through the bad days is worth it if you’ve got something to look forward to.”

Wraith _hates_ that she can feel herself glancing towards Natalie as she finishes her sentence, curses herself for letting her gaze linger on the curve of the engineer’s contagious smile, loathes the way she swallows harshly once a pair of electric blue eyes meet her own. She looks away almost immediately, the quick gesture akin to a cat dipping a curious paw in the water, and laments that her drink is over because now she’s got nothing to hide the embarrassed line of her lips behind.

_are we really this pathetic?_

As advantageous as her other selves were in the arena, being constantly bombarded with judgment coming from the void was more draining than anything else, despite being guilty of that very same behavior herself when on the other side.

Perhaps Renee was just a very curious and meddling person, in general - perhaps even more so than a tactical one.

“You’re right! I will be trying this method, now!”, the robot exclaims, bringing his hands together with a metallic clink.

Wraith blinks and slowly focuses back on Pathfinder, who seems to have regained at least _some_ of his optimistic demeanor. Mechanical hands fiddle with one another, a gesture just as human-like as the way he pauses to consider something before continuing in a lower voice. “I am sorry to be a downer, friend. I know it’s unusual for me.”

The skirmisher shakes her head, voice firm and unwavering when she replies. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Path. You don’t have to be happy all the time, you don’t owe me that.”

The quiet whirrs of grinding gears and hisses of moving hydraulics are barely audible among the loud music now coming from another corner of the room as the group begins to split up, but Wraith recognizes the telltale signs of thinking exhibited by the robot – a certain tilt of his neck, a particular blinking pattern of his red circular light, a slight pause before he admits. “You're right again, I think I’m just sensitive after my friend left me.”

“Hey, maybe she’ll be back”, Wraith proposes, adding a hand on his shoulder for good measure. “Or maybe she’s just missing out on what an awesome friend you are.”

Pathfinder’s panel switches to a happy face almost immediately as his shoulders straighten up, and Wraith smiles briefly at him, encouragingly. “Come on, you can’t sulk in a corner forever.”

“You’re right, friend. I’ll leave that to you!”, Pathfinder exclaims, decidedly more confident than mere seconds prior, and Wraith can feel her lips curling up into an amused grin at the banter.

“Subtle. I’m glad you’re feeling better”, she remarks, genuine amusement crackling in the blue of her eyes.

With that, the robot walks away to join the others, and Wraith wonders just how on Earth she, of all people, managed the insurmountable task of cheering up Pathfinder for the evening.

She moves to grab another drink from the pile she’d brought earlier and sit alone for a while, keen to observe as always - it’s something she prides herself on, being able to go undetected long enough to formulate a plan of approach.

She turns to the new source of blaring music, keeping an eye on the way Natalie responded to it, trying to discern any notes of discomfort in her. If she was pressed on the subject, Wraith would rationalize this behavior as mere concern, simply looking out for her best friend, keeping her safe and comfortable, taking her needs into account. And that _was_ the truth - or a part of it, anyway.

Wraith just got _really_ fucking good at ignoring the other part of the truth over the last couple of months.

Thankfully, Natalie seems completely unperturbed. Pale arms sway from side to side as she dances to some pop song Wraith doesn’t quite recognize, singing and laughing along with Ajay without a care in the world. As she lets her eyes fall on the exposed lines of the engineer’s midriff, Wraith knows that blaming the alcohol pumping through her veins is a bullshit excuse for the way her face flushes warm at the sight.

She scoffs at herself, tries to study anything but Natalie’s own flushed cheeks, tries to ponder anything but whether the engineer was warm from exertion or the drinks she’d downed, to think about anything but the curve of her swaying waist and how neatly it would fit against her hands, but she doesn't manage to do it for too long.

_you're staring._

_go join them._

_quit being obvious._

Damn. This really was pathetic. If digging up things about her past has taught her anything, it’s that some things are better left buried, and the true nature of her feelings for the engineer was definitely something on that list.

She knows there’s another version of her out there who wakes up next to Wattson curled up to her every morning. Wraith has seen this once, passing through the void in her Drop Ship quarters, so she knows the possibility is open - just not for _her_.

In another reality, maybe the two of them would work out. Maybe Natalie would want her to bridge the gap between them, maybe she would confess to feeling this same disorientingly affectionate way, maybe she would want to wake up next to her every morning.

In another world, maybe. But not this one.

Good things, Wraith has come to learn, were probably not meant for her.

And she’s not willing to gamble the best thing in her own reality on a mere chance that her feelings might be reciprocated here, too.

So instead she watches from the sidelines, she yearns until her head swims in affectionate thoughts and the breath’s kicked out of her by a healthy dose of reality until the need curls up inside her like a tightly wound coil ready to spring, almost physically searing into her skin like a brand of raw longing and she wants, wants, wants.

“Void Warrior”, a voice calls out from behind her, abruptly shaking her from her thoughts. She huffs out an unsteady breath, collecting herself, and turns to find Bloodhound standing expectantly, holding out something in their hand. “I have something for you.”

A pleasant sort of surprise finds itself curling at the edges of her lips as the hunter drops a wooden token in her hands. “A little birdie told me you have found your birthday”, the hunter remarks, tilting their head almost expectantly as if to gauge the other’s response. Both the gesture (and the interaction itself, if she’s frank – she’s only spoken to them a couple of times outside the Games) take her so much by surprise that she involuntarily raises an eyebrow at this, trying to discern the veracity of their statement. She’s paired up with them enough times in the arena to know they’re not a strictly serious person at heart, but she’s still not quite sure whether this was a pun or the truth, especially given their bond with Artur.

Bloodhound huffs underneath their respirator, almost as if embarrassed by the silence. “ _Kannski geri ég ekki þennan brandara í framtíðinni_ ”, they admit with a shake of their head. “No matter. I want you to have this”.

Bloodhound drops the token in Wraith’s hands, sitting beside her. Twirling the wooden carving in her fingers, Wraith takes great care in examining every single one of its lines. Its imagery is one she recognizes immediately – a beautifully-crafted portal brimming with detail, the very same one that is so familiar to her that she can feel its flickering, pulsating power underneath her fingers even without it being there. In the middle of it stands a carved figure, the silhouette of a woman standing, waiting expectantly, as if pondering whether or not to cross to the other side. Watching and waiting.

Making a choice.

She lets out a breath she wasn’t aware of holding in the first place and confesses, voice lower than usual. “Thanks, Blóð. This is pretty impressive.”

The hunter crosses their arms, the appreciation filling them with newfound pride. “ _Takk fyrir._ I have been practicing my carving lately. Happy you like it”, they preen, running a hand through their shaggy hair. Without the ornamental headpiece, they almost looked like a different person somehow, less regal.

“Yeah. I do, thank you.” She reiterates, not entirely knowing what else to say. The gesture is so unexpected that it's hard for her to avoid lowering her brow at them, questioning their motive, but Bloodhound just shrugs at this.

“I am not one to celebrate like this. And it is not that important to know when you were born, it is what you do with the gift of life that matters”, they add, pausing to look up at the ceiling in thought, the dim light of the room bouncing off their goggles. Wraith doesn’t want to dwell too long on the subject and is grateful when they continue.

“But I wanted to be here tonight, because I know it means something to you”, the hunter admits, seeking Wraith’s gaze.

This merely serves to confirm her initial suspicion that every person in this room was changing. Becoming closer, for better or for worse, and the hunter was no exception. She’d heard them and Loba in the Dropship, their interactions with Mirage, their inquiries directed at Makoa.

She just didn’t expect this recent level of proximity to reach _her_ , of all people.

“ _Mér þykir leitt_. One’s memories are a precious gift I’ve not been grateful enough for before meeting you.”

“It’s not all that bad. Could be a blessing for all I know”, she retorts, and the worst part is that she knows it to be the truth. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

The hunter hums in understanding, not wishing to press the subject. They sit like this for a while, Wraith running her thumb over the dents of the trinket, following the lines carved into the wood absentmindedly while Bloodhound gazes up at the ceiling in thought. Wraith had agreed to Elliott’s plan for tonight in no small part due to his tiresome puppy eyes and Natalie's encouragement, and mostly because she didn’t expect him to go all out and reserve a whole entertainment side room at a fancy Psamanthe pub as a way of celebrating her belated birthday. The actual day of her birth had passed months ago already, anyway. This was more of a symbolic thing than anything else, so Bloodhound’s words along with their presence fill her with a momentary warmth.

Combat boots thud against the floor as Anita begins to approach the two of them then, causing Bloodhound to get up from their seat and shoot Wraith a stern glance. “The scientist plans to upset the balance of time, going against the very fabric woven by the Gods”, a cautious warning falls off their lips like something sharp, even as some of its danger is muffled by the respirator. “Hope you make the right choice when she asks for your help, Void Warrior. _Til hamingju með afmælið_.”

With that, Bloodhound walks back to sit by the pool table, leaving a bewildered Wraith in their wake.

She doesn’t have time to fully mull over the details of Bloodhound’s statement because without missing a beat, Bangalore is already approaching her coolly.

“Hey. What was that all about?” Anita muses half-accusatorily, thumb pointed backward in the hunter’s direction. Wraith takes another sip of her drink and shrugs.

“No clue. Something about the Gods”, she lies, effortlessly – now wasn’t the time to deal with whatever they were talking about concerning Horizon. She’s not sober enough to even start unpacking it.

Bangalore hums, takes a seat by Wraith’s side. “Tsk. Sounded like they’re plotting something.”

Wraith deliberately avoids the soldier’s prying gaze and shakes her head with a smirk. “They’re not the only one.”

That elicits a chuckle from Anita, who brings their glasses together with a soft clink. “Now that’s something I can drink to.”

Wraith returns the small smile and takes a page from Anita’s book, welcoming the burning sensation that follows the alcohol down her throat. They’re quiet for a few minutes before Anita spins on her seat and brings her ankle to casually rest on top of her other leg, leaning in closer. “So… always figured you weren’t the type to throw a birthday party.”

With a light scoff, Wraith returns the lighthearted smirk. “You almost sound disappointed.”

Anita takes a sip from her beer and shrugs, non-commital as she admits, “Nah. Probably misjudged you, is all.”

“It wasn’t exactly my idea. Mirage said it would be more of a small gathering with a lot of booze, so you’ve got him to blame for… whatever this is.”

Anita nods at this with a newfound enthusiasm. “I'm by no means complaining - hell, we could all use a morale boost. Things went to shit after we put that damned head together. And you deserve the chance to celebrate, for once. Haven’t seen you let loose once since I know you.”

Wraith scoffs again at that, dipping her tone in sarcasm. “Yeah, let’s keep it that way.”

Anita simply shrugs indifferently, shakes her head nonchalantly. “Doesn’t bother me in the slightest. But if you ask me, most guys I knew that were all stoic like you? They were absolute beasts on the dance floor”, she says with a smirk that is more challenging than anything else. “It was like a goddamn switch would turn on in their heads.”

Wraith smiles at that, amusement bouncing off the pale blue of her eyes as she leans back, propping up an elbow on the back of the seat. “Funny, the only stoic woman I know is lecturing me right now.”

“Smartass” Anita’s grin doesn’t leave her lips despite the harshness of her tone. “I’m just saying, I like the side of you that can throw a mean party.”

Wraith raises her a confronting eyebrow in response to the apparent compliment. “Is that the alcohol talking, Sarge?”

Anita throws her head back and for a second Wraith thinks she’s finally got her, but the bubbling chuckles that she’s greeted with instead cause her to hesitate. “And here I was gonna say that you’ve been pointedly less of a jackass these last few weeks. You’re eager to prove me wrong, huh?”

Wraith grimaces at that for a split second almost reflexively, out of defensive instinct. It would appear her change in demeanor was apparent even to someone she wasn’t that close with, but she’d have to keep the real reason why she was making an active effort to be less cold buried a while longer.

But honestly, two could play this game.

Wraith hums, a dangerous smirk clinging to her lips. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been friendlier lately. Less of a drill sergeant.”

Anita’s the one who pauses then, before sighing in defeat. Wraith knows the way she shakes her head pretty well, it’s akin to admitting defeat out loud. “Yeah well, figured it’s about time I started treating you all more like a family and less like a sad bunch of recruits. You’re not all that useless.”

A raised eyebrow and a smug lopsided grin and Wraith is echoing the soldier's words back at her. “I always figured you weren’t the type to be sentimental with coworkers.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wraith can feel the words on her tongue dripping like poison; wielding them is akin to twirling her kunai between her fingers, its blade equal parts mesmerizing and dangerous. “I think I remember you distinctly saying that it’d be a cold day in hell before you helped a common criminal like Loba”, a single wrong move was enough to pierce and wound, a careful balance she meticulously crafts with each word, “and yet you go and risk your life for her, show up together tonight. Guess I probably misjudged you.”

And just as easily as she’d suspected, she’s managed to crawl under the soldier’s skin and strike a nerve, to twirl the knife deftly and quietly and hit something concealed there. Perhaps she’ll blame it on the alcohol later, but this dance of blades the two were having was more fun than she’d like to admit.

To Wraith's surprise, Anita doesn’t shake her head in defeat this time, she merely scowls and straightens up her spine, pointing an accusatory finger in the skirmisher’s chest. “Hey, I was the one who got her into trouble, alright? I don’t leave anyone behind. You should know that by now. Nothing more to it than that.”

The soldier's defensiveness earns her another roguish grin from Wraith. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Anita sighs and finishes her drink as her gaze drifts to a nearby wall. When she speaks again, her voice is small and honest, a stark contrast to her usual curtness. “I guess… I’m just trying to be less of an asshole. Think _you_ are, too.”

To this, Wraith has to concede, even if only a little bit. “Maybe I am.” 

“Might be that a little someone you're always stuck to finally had a good influence on you. Might be that _she’s_ the reason you’re being warmer.”

The remark shouldn't leave her as taken aback as this, she should've expected it given their playful banter, yet Wraith is momentarily at a loss for words. When she does find them, the wind is kicked out of her lungs by a pair of strong arms suddenly curling up around her neck from behind before she can speak.

“ _Coucou!_ There you are, _ma moitié!_ ”, comes Natalie’s cheery voice from behind the two, smiling as always.

Wraith has to stop her own lips from curling ever so slightly at the chosen word – Natalie had tried to explain it to her a few weeks ago, equated it with a _better half_ , something you would call your best friend, a partner in crime. Wraith had wondered at the time if the sentence also had another meaning like its English counterpart, but never got around to asking.

“Hey, Nat”, Wraith breathes, entirely aware of her entire posture softening at the other woman’s presence.

Bangalore seems to take notice of this too, with the way she remarks slyly, "Speak of the devil." 

Natalie wraps her hands around Wraith’s bicep, tugging her closer effortlessly, pulling her away from Anita in the direction of the group. Wraith is surprisingly still light enough on her feet not to trip as she’s tugged along, but suddenly standing up is enough to cause her vision to spin briefly, and she has to blink away the sluggishness brought about by the drinks she’s consumed.

“We’re playing a dancing game! _Venez nous rejoindre_ , it’s so much fun!”

“I’m happy to watch”, she mumbles, welcoming the warmth of Natalie’s arms around her own, committing the lines of her contagious smile illuminated by the room's colorful lights to memory.

The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy the engineer though, who is quick to shake her head and add enthusiastically, “ _Non_ , we’re all trying to beat Mirage’s high score! Will you too, _s’il te plait?_ ”

Wraith feels her limbs locking up in protest - her body posture alone seems to scream a negative reply at the mere suggestion, but Wraith still entertains the thought long enough to put her glass down on a nearby table. “I’m not much of a dancer, Nat.”

“Hmph, neither is he! _Mais_ you are light on your feet, _oui?_ It’s not much different from fighting, is it? I know you can do it, Wraith!”

Wraith can’t really shut her down, not when those vibrant blue eyes peer up at her with so much excitement, but she’s really not keen on making a fool out of herself either, so she settles on a neutral ground. “I don’t know, I'm not too keen on a crowd.”

“Ah – that’s a shame! _J'aimerais vraiment te voir danser, et je sais que tu peux gagner, mais_... only if you want to, of course!”

Wraith blinks at the flurry of unknown words making its way past Natalie’s lips and attempts to put the sentence together in her hazy brain. The added dose of her native tongue made it harder to keep up with a tipsy Natalie, but Wraith thinks she gets the gist of it anyway.

Especially because Anita overhears the conversation and just grins, grins, grins, the smug bastard.

After a brief moment of consideration, Wraith smiles too, despite herself.

Elliott had told her once during a particularly slow evening at the Paradise Lounge that Wattson could probably get her to do anything with a mere smile and a bat of her eyelids – much to her own chagrin, Wraith had known this to be true already, but having someone other than Elliott take notice of it was somewhat new. She brushes aside the cautious part of her that identifies this as a potential weakness, something that can bring about an unwanted disadvantage, and sighs in defeat. “I guess someone has to beat Elliott.”

Natalie exclaims another string of unfamiliar words in excitement and wraps her arm around Wraith’s own as she walks her to one of the entertainment stations in the room. Wraith shoots a parting glance back at Anita, who seems busy enough watching something in the distance and offers her a challenging grin. “Hey, you’re next up if I don’t beat him.”

“I’ll make sure to finish my drink, then” Anita matches the challenge with determination before her gaze immediately shifts again. Wraith watches as it lands on the pair sitting by the pool table and settles there, evidently preoccupied with the two Legends sitting there. Loba had been touchy with practically every single one of them at the start, eagerly traded flirtatious remarks, and offered vain smirks that were as _aggressive_ as they were _empty_ to anyone looking closely enough, but somehow her demeanor with Bloodhound seemed entirely different. Were she sitting with anyone else, Loba would be leaning over the pool table and innocently running her fingers over its edge with confidence, a display of pure control and frankly a stark contrast to the completely relaxed way in which she sat now, almost as if her guard had been let down.

Wraith’s sure she knows what Anita would say when pressed on the subject - that she finds the way Loba’s eyebrows knit together in concern as she fiddles with something in her hands strange, that Bloodhound is the one reaching out to her hands instead, their expression impossible to discern beneath their gear, that Loba’s smile is so unfathomably _genuine_ that this all seems almost out of character for her, that Anita’s just _looking out_ for her.

But Wraith knows better than that.

It’s starting to look like she’s got more things in common with Anita than she had thought.

She won’t say a word about it, of course. They’re not that close, and tonight’s talk was more than what she’s willing to breach regarding the subject. Yet she can’t help finding an entertaining irony in the steel-faced soldier claiming to be immune to Loba’s charms while being so evidently enamored with her.

As Wraith approaches the holographic display, Natalie still pressed against her side, Rampart’s the first one to pipe up with her classic shit-eating grin. “Oooh, Blasey’s stepping up to the dance floor, eh? Now _this_ is one for the vids.”

The way Wraith smirks up at her is not too far from the cocksure grin on her lips after a perfectly-landed Kraber shot. Perhaps Natalie was right, this can’t be all that different from the arena. “Thought you’d at least be happy someone’s beating your least favorite roommate.”

Ramya chuckles at that, leaning against the wall as she twirls the beer bottle in her hands for good measure. “Right you are mate, I’ll pay anyone to wipe that bloody smirk right off his face. But I’m light on cash, think his humiliation alone’ll have to do, eh? Now that'd be a sure gift for the both of us.”

"Now you're talking, Parekh", Wraith muses as she walks past the modder. Elliott’s grin is every bit nervous as he wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt, evidently marked with stains from excessive sweating. “Whew okay, guys I’m… I’m getting a little tired, so can one of you just take over? I just need a little break-”

Before he can finish, Wraith shrugs of her black leather jacket in one smooth motion and tosses it to the side, cracks her knuckles for good measure, and shoots him a grin that despite appearing vicious to anyone not knowing any better, is laced with lighthearted playfulness. “Not a chance, Eliott. Keep talking and you’ll run out of breath before the game starts.”

As she steps up in front of the large screen, Natalie gives her a thumbs up and a grin that could light up the entire room. Wraith rolls her shoulders and neck for good measure - mostly to mess with Elliott, but if it has the added benefit of _showing off_ that’s a completely unintended side effect. For the most part.

“H-Ha… Yeah, I uh - I guess I can do one more” Mirage stammers as he walks beside her, shaking off his arms in preparation.

The group starts going over the song list, picking from a series of names Wraith has never heard of – another consequence of memory loss perhaps, though she has no clue whether Renee ever frequented the sort of places where these songs would be playing, to begin with. In the meantime, Eliott goes over the rules with newfound bravado. “Alright, so the moves are gonna come up on the screen there with little directions, so make sure to memorize them. Then you just gotta follow the hologram’s direction and try to match the rhythm. It’s that simple.”

“You got it.”

Wraith doesn’t know whether Renee was much of a dancer in her past life. She would have to assume based on what knowledge she’s gathered of her so far, but she’s quick to push those thoughts out of her mind as soon as they surface. She can recall a handful of times where she’s moved to the beat of a song in a celebration party or tapped her feet on the floor at the Paradise Lounge – but that wasn’t really dancing, was it?

Mirage, of all people, has managed an unbeatable score at this game, and he’s frankly an average dancer at best. How hard could it be?

Surprisingly to no one, Wraith ends up playing the game with a tactical sternness, doing her best to memorize and anticipate each move, focusing on the calculated transition between each of the sequences, but she's beaming by the third time they have a rematch and sweating by the fourth when she finally manages to beat him.

As Elliott gets progressively drunker throughout the evening he ends up bringing her tightly into a hug more than once and it’s warm and so _nice_ to have one of her best friends back. Rampart, oddly enough, joins in on the embrace, and Wraith is left wondering how this new dynamic will work out - something for the three of them to figure out later.

Natalie holds her hand as the Legends sing an inebriated version of a birthday song at one point during the night. The feeling of discomfort is still there, but the gesture is like a salve, drowning the heartache away.

The party ends up lasting another handful of hours filled with rowdy conversation after that, and as Wraith walks beside Natalie in the cold night air, she can gradually feel herself sobering up a little.

Which is a good thing, since she drank a little more than usual while unconsciously trying to rid herself of bad thoughts.

“I'm happy that Rampart and Mirage have made up”, Wattson comments as they walk side by side- somehow, between the party and now, they haven't let go of each other's hand.

“They're not at each other's throats, at least. Can't say I don't know where she's coming from, though. It’s always been a rocky ride with him.”

Natalie nods, huddling closer to Wraith for warmth as a particularly chilly gust of wind blows against them. “ _Oui_ … how are you and Mirage now?”

“Elliott apologized, we’re fine", Wraith muses nonchalantly, tugging her scarf closer. “I think he’s finally starting to step up.”

“I’m wondering…" Natalie starts but then falters, as if losing her fleeting courage. “Ah, nothing! Sorry, it’s not my business.”

“You can say it, whatever it is. I’m not hiding anything. Not from you, at least.”

Natalie hesitates for a second, squeezing Wraith's hand indulgently before inquiring. “Hm. How would you feel if they got together?”

Wraith raises an eyebrow at that, retorting tartly. “I don’t think Elliott’s delusional enough to think that’ll ever happen, even after last week’s gossip spread got to his head.”

“Ah, _oui_ …” Natalie scratches at her scarred cheek with her free hand, pondering something before she smiles earnestly. “'Ram-rage' is a funny name though.”

“I didn’t know you listened to Sawtelle, Nat”, comes the playful retort with a matching smile of Wraith's own.

Natalie blinks at this with a pout, feigning offense. “I don’t! Well, I listen to the broadcasts about the games, I always have. I used to have it on while Papa and I worked together. How come _you_ listen to it, Wraith?”

“I don’t”, she chuckles, light and airy, “I’m just unfortunate enough to sit next to Pathfinder and Elliott whenever they do, which is just about every week.”

Natalie scratches at her cheek again, looking away before asking, trying to act insouciant. “So you heard the last one?”

Before she can help it, Wraith is glaring at the floor and stuffing her hands inside her pockets. Natalie’s words bring about something she’s avoided mulling over ever since Mirage rattled on about _Cutie Crypto and Natalie’s bittersweet fallout and soon-to-be cheesy reunion complete with a declaration of love_. She had rolled her eyes at the time, scoffed, and feigned the usual indifference towards the scandalmonger's episode, but a repulsive feeling had wrapped itself around her gut like constricting vines, nonetheless. Elliot had thankfully been oblivious to it at the time, busying himself with the rest of their shared paperwork while Wraith attempted to pry the feeling off her.

It wasn’t exactly _jealousy_ , per se. She rationalized it as outrage over some kind of unfair bias.

Right after Wraith had found her birthday, Natalie had come over to partake in the happy news. That very evening, she had threaded her fingers through Wraith’s hair, pulling it up to match the picture of Renee left on top of the coffee table. She had smiled warmly upon examining her handiwork, holding out a mirror for Wraith to inspect what had felt foreign to her at the time, the way she looked so perfectly like the picture, all the way down to her grave expression.

That evening, Natalie had held out Wraith’s hand, pulling her along a busy street; had made a promise to give her _new_ memories as a late birthday gift, and they had brought home a strip of pictures as a souvenir. Natalie had ripped the last one and placed it in the skirmisher’s hands, playfully murmuring something about how she should be the one keeping it because she had a reputation to keep. And as she had examined the small square picture in her hand, Wraith had understood the motive behind those words – Natalie had kept on smiling at the camera in the shot, while Wraith sported an undeniably lovestruck grin directed at the engineer.

And of course, despite their entire evening having taken place in public, there was no gossip about it, no paparazzi who’d bothered selling candid shots of the two of them sharing a meal, or of Natalie running her hands through Wraith’s hair. When they went together to Ajay’s concert and held hands practically the entire time - which Wraith had rationalized as merely a safety precaution to avoid getting lost in the crowd – there had been literal radio silence regarding this in her broadcasted interviews with these people, constantly trying to pry into her private life.

For fuck’s sake, she'd survived months of nosy interviewers asking her over a _dozen_ times whether or not Elliott and here were ‘an item’, and despite her all but kissing Natalie’s head under the rain on a particularly warm summer evening, there was absolutely no speculation ever written about the two of them.

So really, the fact that they had dedicated an entire segment to Crypto and Natalie’s supposed _secret romance_ having ended in heartache didn’t bother her in the slightest. It did bother her, but surely only because of this unfair bias, right?

Right.

Deciding she's avoided the question for too long enough, Wraith eventually settles for an indirect approach, non-committal. “Why do you ask?”

To her surprise, Natalie’s response comes quickly and almost bashfully. “Nothing! No reason!”

Which was _odd_ , since she had been the one bringing it up. Wraith knits her brows at the meek way in which Natalie deliberately avoids her piercing gaze as they walk, lifting an eyebrow curiously, laying down some of her cards in return. “… You sure you still don’t wanna talk about Crypto?”

This isn’t the question Natalie expects to hear, that much is evident from the way she purses her lips before nodding and affirming. “ _Oui_ , I am sure. I just wanted to know what you thought about it.”

“It’s just gossip, Nat. Made-up stories and pointless lies dug up for money-”, a vile thought blooms in her mind then, forcing her to pause. At once it all clicks into place – the question, the avoidance, the reason Natalie had asked about Wraith and Mirage, the bashfulness.

“-Unless…”, she trails off, not quite bringing herself to say it out loud. Natalie blinks at this, perplexed but now evidently flustered, and Wraith is pretty sure she’s hit the nail on the head. “Ah. I see.”

“ _Non_ , it’s not true!”, Natalie counters, stopping in her tracks as she shakes her head. “That is not what I was implying.”

Black combat boots kick up at the dirt as Wraith spins on her heels, stopping to face the blonde, piercing blue eyes intensely trained on Natalie’s own. “You can tell me if it is. It doesn’t change anything”, she lies effortlessly, feeling her skin crawl at the mere possibility of it being the truth, tasting the ugly feeling of possessiveness swirling around her tongue like copper.

“Oh”, Natalie murmurs, her face falling noticeably. Somehow _that_ wasn’t the right thing to reply, either, and Wraith ponders whether her brain is just too hazy to have a normal conversation at the moment, because every answer she gives just seems to disappoint the engineer further, to sadden her somehow. Wraith has been keeping her cool façade decently enough, so she can't figure out where this reaction is coming from at all.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot”, comes the honest, curt reply as her fingers reach out to pull up her scarf absentmindedly.

“You didn’t”, Natalie is quick to reassure with a practically forced smile, “But I don’t want to talk about this anymore if that’s okay.”

“Yeah. That’s okay.”

The rest of the walk goes by without another word. The loudness of the silence sinks into her bones like slowly hardening cement, making each step weightier. She replays the conversation over in her head, trying to discern why Natalie had become so crestfallen, but the fact that she doesn’t come to any conclusion is disheartening.

Once they reach the door to the apartment, Wraith solely lingers by the doorway, unsure of what to do as Natalie effortlessly twists a key into the lock, opening it with a click. They turn to each other, mere seconds stretching into what feels like heavy minutes of silence before they end up speaking simultaneously.

“I should probably go-”

“Do you want to come in?-”

Wraith offers her a lopsided grin at that, and Natalie is quick to return it. “Oh! If you don’t want to that’s okay, you must be pretty tired.”

Running her fingers through her hair, Wraith finds herself looking away in turn. Being open with Natalie had always been effortless, easy enough to do without the vestiges of remorse that accompanied doing it with anyone else, but hesitation still holds back her words before they spill from her lips as if she were contemplating jumping into quicksand.

The thought of going back to her apartment was enough to anchor her feet into place, like sand dripping into her boots. Having to face the possibility of another recurring nightmare left her grounded, standing in place by the entrance. It was exhausting, physically draining to try and force herself to only fall asleep when fatigue took over - she loathed the thought of having to face the darkness again, having to feel the bitterness dripping from her own voice like wet tar - _the sooner you face who you are, the better;_ words that used to ring in her ears only during particularly hollow nights, but that's become every night lately.

Admitting this was far from easy though - she supposes she’ll have to contend with a practiced excuse after taking a deep breath. “Actually… I was hoping you could keep me some company. I'm not that tired yet.”

This alone brings the familiar light back to Natalie’s features as she nods with excitement. “Oui, you can stay over if you’d like.”

The walk back to her own flat wasn’t that long, but crashing on a couch after a long night of socializing without having to go back would be preferable. She’d slept over at Natalie's a handful of times anyway, back when the sting of betrayal from Caustic and the hacker was still a freshly carved wound.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Wraith still finds herself asking, even as she steps inside, glad to be rid of the swarm of dark thoughts already threatening to consumer her into a neverending spiral.

“Of course not! Come in”, Natalie motions as she kicks off her sneakers and sets the keys on a counter.

Wraith glances around the furnished apartment from the doorway, taking in her surroundings with an appreciative hum. It’s not a glamorous home by any means, nothing like the estates they’ve passed on Olympus, but it’s still cozy, warm, inviting. She’s never been one to complain about the temporary accommodation given to her by the Syndicate for the duration of the games – it’s always just been another perk of the job, a place to call home for a couple of days before moving to another planet, and it certainly beat their rooms on the Dropship; but still, she can’t help but appreciate how much nicer Natalie’s room is, by comparison. “Looks like you got a pretty good deal this time.”

Natalie twirls, ever-present radiant smile on her lips as she nods and looks around the room in turn before musing. “ _Oui_ , I like it a lot. It even has a little balcony! But hm, I still miss my room. Psamanthe is… well, new.”

“We’ll be back in Solace soon.”

Natalie nods in agreement as she shrugs off her oversized letterman jacket, tossing it onto the back of a desk chair. The room is relatively devoid of personal effects outside of functional furniture since most of her belongings were on the Drop Ship, but there are still scribbled papers and scattered pieces lying about, a visual cacophony of tools and schematics that followed the engineer wherever she went.

By comparison, Wraith’s room was nearly empty aside from the furniture that came with it. Whatever research she’d been able to gather on her past was mostly committed to memory by now, so she’d locked those files someplace safe and figured she wouldn’t need them anytime soon. She didn’t keep much in the form of trinkets or keepsakes aside from her scarf and kunai so the room would be kept mostly empty for the next week until the Drop Ship came along for another change of scenery. It’s not like she had a place to call home outside the Games, anyway.

Natalie reaches for a fancy-looking kettle from a high cupboard in the kitchen and Wraith realizes the one thing that’s missing from her apartment. Although she’s always preferred being alone, there’s a certain kind of newfound loneliness lingering in those walls that she can’t quite place, but one that gnaws at her chest, nonetheless.

Natalie busies herself setting the water to boil and fetching two mugs while Wraith leans against a nearby wall, her jacket discarded on the back of a chair. “Do you want some tea, _mon chaton?_ ”

Natalie’s choice of words elicits a thoughtful hum from Wraith before she muses, “That one’s new.”

“Ah, _oui..._ ", Natalie admits, crinkling her nose in thought before smiling again, "Well, you remind me of a cat. Stoic, elegant, always watching. Always ready for something.”

“... Huh" It’s barely noticeable for someone untrained to it, but there’s a brief smile tugging at the corners of Wraith’s lips, and Natalie’s practiced the act of finding it to perfection. Natalie’s tone is earnest when she speaks again, almost nostalgic.

“Also, I really miss Nikola.”

Wraith exhales sharply at the mention of the cat. How the two of them had gone from mortal enemies to cuddle buddies was a mystery to her, but it was an indisputable fact that the cat had taken a great liking to Wraith after basically hissing at her for the first handful of times she’d been over at Natalie’s place. If she’s honest, Wraith would have to admit she missed the furball as well. “I bet the little troublemaker’s missing you too.”

“Does it bother you if I call you that?”, Natalie inquires abruptly, her tone laced with sincere concern, likely not wanting to overstep boundaries.

“Not at all”, the smile she offers the engineer is an earnest one, filled to the brim with affection. A little thing she seemed to reserve just for Natalie - anyone else would be hard-pressed to find it painted on Wraith's features.

Natalie brings her hands together in front of her, lively again. “Right! So, tea?”

“I'd love some. Can I help?”

“ _Non!_ ”, Natalie’s quick to exclaim, raising her hands to Wraith’s shoulders to gently nudge her to sit down. “ _En aucune façon._ You’re my guest, just sit back.”

Wraith almost wants to roll her eyes at the sudden hospitality. She’d been to Natalie’s home so many times, scanned through blueprints while she worked at her desk, helped her bounce off ideas for a new project - though welcome, the gesture almost seemed out of place. 

“Thought I was more than just a guest”, she muses, feeling the weight of the words stick to her tongue like thick honey. After one of her attempts to get back up is shut down by a playful glare and pout combo from Natalie, she shakes her head with a smile and adds, “C’mon Nat, I’ve been to your place so many times before.”

“Not to this one!” Natalie winks at her then, the absolute _fiend_ , and Wraith has to scoff teasingly at that, shaking her head in defeat as she crosses her arms against her chest.

“Fine, I’ll stay put”, Wraith grumbles, but the tender smile on her lips tells an entirely different story. She leans over the table, propping her chin up against her palm, studying the blonde's movements with hidden interest.

Satisfied with the skirmisher’s answer, Natalie hums in approval and fetches a box of light brown biscuits, brandishing it in front of Wraith. “I bought _spéculoos_! Hm, I wonder if there are any Holoday movies playing already.”

Wraith would want nothing more than to fall asleep on the couch underneath a warm shared blanket to the sound of a notoriously cheesy movie while curled up next to Natalie, but even with the last vestiges of alcohol pumping through her veins she has enough self-reserve not to allude to that directly. “I could go check, but you’ve been very adamant about me not getting up.”

A toothy grin is Natalie’s response to the skirmisher’s own self-satisfied smirk as she crosses her arms and ponders. "Do you hate being told what to do that much?"

"Not if you're the one bossing me around."

Shit. What was she doing? She's sobered enough during their long walk out in the cold, so there's not much else Wraith can blame on for blatantly _flirting_ with the younger woman.

_smooth, Renee._

Natalie, thankfully, gracefully, merely flashes her a cheeky grin. "Hmm, I'll take this into consideration."

Warmth crawls up her neck and pools on Wraith's cheeks, crawling underneath her skin and pulling it taut. She racks her brain for something - _anything_ to quickly change the subject into. "I enjoyed tonight, by the way. Thanks for talking me into it.”

Natalie, seeming not even nearly as perturbed by the flirtatious remark as Wraith was, pointedly ignores how evident Wraith's blush is against her pale skin and how perfectly it contrasts with the black loose strands of her hair - if she notices Wraith's discomposure at all she does a damn good job of not acting on it. “It was so much fun! I’m glad you brought everyone together. And _chérie_ , you have a lot of birthdays to make up for! Loba says we need to do a shopping trip next week.”

“Yeah? Hm”, Wraith ponders, running a thumb through her piercing absentmindedly. Loba was just a box full of surprises lately, but she can’t exactly complain about that when the thief was making a deliberate effort to make it up to Natalie for the hardship she’d put her through. Against her will, she recalls the image of the latter lying unconscious on that hospital bed, and the mere thought claws at her heart like a wild animal. “I can tag along if you want.”

Natalie approaches her with a slow step, runs a finger through Wraith’s messy bangs, smoothing them neatly into place, and the gesture shouldn’t make the skirmisher’s breath hitch in her throat because frankly, Natalie has always been a very tactile person with her, often blurring the messy borders of simple friendship - but it _does_ , it makes her head spin deliriously fast and her heart rattle rapidly against its cage and her tongue feel like sandpaper against her lips and -

“I’d like it if you did”, Natalie murmurs, tone dripping with warmth and affection. And at once Wraith’s head is swimming in blissful yearning again, like Natalie’s the very air itself and she’s almost entirely running out of breath. “I like having you around, _chérie_.”

Wraith's breath falters again as she looks up at the woman standing before her, messy blond hair framing her face delicately, something out of a work of art. She feels small in more ways than one, feels like her skin's made of marble, cold and heavy and breakable, wonders if there will ever be something as beautiful as the way Natalie's smile reaches those dancing blue eyes, knows she's _done for._ This weakness, she knows by name, and it would be so very easy to call it, so very easy to simply let the words pour out of her lips. “Nat, I-”

A high-pitched beeping suddenly increases in volume behind them as the water finishes boiling. Natalie doesn’t even acknowledge it, tilting her head down at the skirmisher, motioning her to go on.

Thankfully the distraction was enough for Wraith to catch herself and regain some of her composure. Her tongue darts out to dampen her lips again before she shakes her head and stands up, taking a few steps away from Natalie to start pouring the tea into two mugs, busying herself with something tangible to avoid yielding. “Nothing. My head’s still spinning, I probably just drank too much, that's all.”

When she turns around again, a hand darts out to caress her temple ever so gently, the blonde’s other arm snaking up and settling around her shoulders, burrowing under her scarf. Wraith swallows harshly, eyes closing sharply as if in pain the very second they begin to glow white.

_You’ll put her in danger._

_She’s in love with you too._

_You can’t risk it._

_Kiss her._

_You’re going to lose her._

_Maybe in another world, you’d work out._

_Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her._

_What are you waiting for?_

_Don’t do this._

_What have you got to lose?_

Glowing white eyes slowly blink open again, the myriad of voices pushed to the back of her mind, muffled as mere white noise as she focuses on a pair of concerned blue orbs staring up at her.

“Wraith, are you okay?”, Natalie asks, tone impossibly soft even as it’s dipped into scratchy apprehension, and Wraith feels at once like the wind’s been kicked out of her lungs by force, has to force her words out of suddenly dried lips, her voice raspy and raw.

“Yeah. Don't worry”, comes her breathless retort, which doesn’t do much to dissolve the engineer’s worry – Wraith _loathes_ the way the blonde’s brow furrows into a deep frown, _knows_ she’s not worthy of this much care, of this level of affection, and just sighs, anticipating an insisting response.

“You look so tired...”, but instead she’s met with soothing words as Natalie drags her hand down to cup her cheek, and she knows that, if nothing else, this _yearning_ will be the death of her - she’s so starved that a single touch is enough to cause her to break apart at the seams again. “So _sad_.”

“I'm fine, Nat”, she placates, trying to regain some footing, some sense of control no matter how small, trying to avoid coming undone.

“You were there for me so many times” Natalie appeals, her brow tightly knit with worry, words impossibly delicate, hands reaching out to envelop one of Wraith’s own and rub soothing circles along its surface. “Let me do the same for you.”

Under the warm intensity of Natalie’s gaze, Wraith finally feels her composure crack open, leaving nothing in its wake. She lets out a soul-rumbling sigh and allows the words to spill out, relentless in their show of vulnerability. “I… I’ve been having the nightmares again.”

Natalie purses her lips at that, one of her hands reaching out to brush against the fabric of Wraith’s scarf in cautiously languid patterns, the other snaking around her waist to hold her there, grip firm and soft at once like pliable steel. “Oh. Like before?”

“Yeah, only much worse. I keep seeing her face – _my_ face in them, and she’s… _I’m_ doing terrible things. Hurting people. Hurting you. Hurting myself. Other versions of me. I haven’t had a night without them since we arrived in Psamanthe”, Wraith reveals, paying no mind to the way her low voice cracks with raw emotion.

“Oh, Wraith…” Natalie wraps her arms around her waist, holds her with a delicate firmness that unwinds the sadness sunken deep into her very bones, runs the pads of her fingers along the small of Wraith’s back to ease the strain there, a perfect anodyne. Wraith can’t help but to think how perfectly they seem to fit together like this, finding refuge in the curve of each other’s arms and shelter in each other's words. “Is it because of what happened on Olympus?”

Wraith is quiet at that. No words form on her tongue when she attempts to reply, an exhausted huff making its way past her lips instead. When she speaks again it’s something small, raw, vulnerable; it scratches at her throat, almost as if holding on to dear life, not wanting to be released. “I think so. I just... I don't want to _be_ her, Nat.”

“ _Mais tu n'es pas elle_ ", Natalie assures with a shake of her head, words permeated with solicitude, "You don’t have to change that reputation because that’s not yours, _oui?_ You may be two different versions of the same person, but you are not the ghost.”

A part of her is always eternally relieved to be able to talk about this with someone whenever Natalie brings it up, but she knows there’s more to the truth than the engineer's words. She’s no better than any of the other versions of her – she’s indulged in wrath-fueled revenge fantasies herself, entertained the dark thoughts prowling within her like sharp-fanged beasts more than once.

“Everything I keep finding, all the descriptions I’ve been seeing... it all fits pretty well. Lack of empathy, anti-social, short temper, _dangerous -_ what if that’s just who I am?”

Natalie shakes her head, firm and resolute in her reply. “She attacked me. You wouldn’t hurt someone like that.”

“I play a bloodsport for a living.” Sharp. Every inch of her was sharp, jagged edges. Venom dripped from her words so damn easily, a habit that was hard to break. She takes a step back, leaving Natalie's embrace.

“Well, you’re _not_ her” Natalie insists, unmoving, voice raising higher with persistence.

Not being quick enough to stop the words from tumbling out of her lips, Wraith snaps. “You don't know that.”

“I know you, _chérie_ , I know you would never-”

“But you don’t", she all but hisses, a scowl distorting her features, defensiveness cementing each layer of the walls she put up. "Maybe you don’t know me.” 

“I have known you for so long!”

“I don’t even know myself, Nat. What I’ve done, how much blood is running through my hands”, she rebukes, harsh words akin to a bucket of ice, seething with exasperation.

Natalie's voice matches Wraith's tone in urgency as she reaches out for her face, trying to tame the ire lurking underneath. “ _Non!_ You’re nothing like that!”

Wraith is unmoving, scowling beneath the blonde's touch - a heart made of stone to stop Natalie's hands from tugging at the dark energy fizzling within. "I was his partner, Nat. That has to mean something."

"You won't change my mind, Wraith. I know you're nothing like her!"

"How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I know you’re not a bad person, Renee! You’re kind and strong and you protect the weak and you fight against injustice. You want to find out more about yourself so you can undo it, make the world a better place, rebuild what you’ve destroyed. This, I know. You’re always so soft and kind to me, you stay with me until I fall asleep and you remember to always bring my earplugs and you cook for me and you leave me notes while I work and… You’re _not_ a bad person, Wraith.”

Everything Natalie had been holding back comes pouring out of her lips all at once like a torrent. Wraith can feel the warm stinging on her eyes, knows the last time she’s been this close to letting herself cry in front of someone was when Natalie was lying motionless in that hospital bed.

_way to go, Renee._

_you can't escape you who are._

_get the hell out of there._

_you can't run from this._

She blinks back the warmth pooling beneath her eyelids, clenching her jaw shut. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that. Maybe I should go.”

“Wraith”, a plea, more than anything, as she reaches out to cover Wraith's hands in her own like an emollient balm. “Please don’t go.”

After the silence between them dissolves the friction, the skirmisher feels herself slip. Her hands break free from Natalie’s to wrap around the smaller woman’s shoulders, pulling her in close like she’s the very fire thawing her frozen hands, like Wraith’s been dormant for years and only now managed to take a step - a dead woman taking her first breath. She swallows harshly, manages to keep the tears at bay, and tries to steady her voice. “I feel like I'm falling apart, Nat. The closer I get to this, the more I want to run away from it. But I _can't_ , not when I'm so close.”

Natalie is quick to cup the back of Wraith’s head comfortingly as she speaks, stroking the raven-colored hair there, whispering a myriad of soft murmurs that dissolve against Wraith’s neck and finally manage to give her respite – “ _Shh, you will be alright, I am here for you, tout ira bien_.”

She brings Wraith in closer, pressing their bodies flush with each other, massaging her shoulders with great care, soothing the broken shell of the cocksure woman the world knew from the games, knowing this was the one place Wraith allowed herself to be truly vulnerable, to lay down her armor after another war, to tear down her walls and just be herself, not having to worry about whoever that person _was_ or turned out to _be_.

Wraith doesn't know how long they stay like this for, arms wrapped around each other in the silence of Natalie's kitchen. All she can focus on is the way Natalie kisses the crown of her head, the way she kneads the worry seared into Wraith's shoulders like a brand, the way she slips her hands underneath the scarf to caress the skin there, the way she assuages her grief into complete stillness, complete calm.

Wraith's body is at once too heavy to move - she manages only to shift her fingers to grasp at the fabric of Natalie's shirt as she slumps into the younger woman's strong arms, breathing slowly against her shoulder.

After a small eternity passes, Wraith finally stills, not a single ripple in her mind. Natalie pulls back from their embrace ever so slowly, gaze avoidant as if embarrassed about her question. “Do you really want to know how I know you’re not a bad person?”

Wraith pulls back as well, eyebrows knit together apologetically with a small sigh. “Think you’ve already made your case. Sorry, I just-”

“Because I like you, Wraith", Natalie interrupts, as if not wanting the courage she'd abruptly gathered to evanesce again. “ _Je crois que je suis amoureux de toi_.”

“What?” Wraith asks dazedly, raising an eyebrow at this, caught off-balance by the response.

“We both know I would not like a bad person, _n'est-ce pas vrai?_ ” She says it so casually, too, as if it's the easiest thing in the world, with a warm grin and a tap of her finger on the skirmisher's nose, like those words alone don't mean the world to Wraith. 

“You like me.” Wraith parrots, matter-of-factly, as if to try and understand if something else was lurking in the muddy waters of their relationship, discerning whether the lines between friendship and something _else_ had been crossed, a mixture of dread and hope sinking into her gut like a dead weight.

“Oui. Maybe as a lot more than just a best friend.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Now it all made sense.

All the pieces click into place like a gunshot - the question about Mirage, the gossip regarding Crypto, the disappointment shimmering in her eyes at Wraith's answer.

She was trying to gauge Wraith’s reaction. To elicit a response.

And despite how she prides herself on being observant, alert, and always prepared for every outcome, Wraith had been an unaware idiot, completely oblivious to it.

She's dead certain that there must be another version of her enjoying the absolute treat that is the raw astonishment coloring her features right now as she all but stutters, breath quavering. “Oh - that’s… wow, okay. I didn't - I mean-”

Natalie brings an index finger to Wraith's lips, deftly shaking her head as a blush crawls underneath her skin, nestling on her cheeks. “You don’t have to say anything if you don't want to! I’ve been reading this book about communication, and… it’s unfair if you don’t know. I tried to be subtle earlier but maybe that wasn't the right thing, so I should be honest” She rambles, now evidently flustered herself. "But what you choose to do with this is up to you, _oui?_ I hope this doesn't change anything!"

Wraith just smiles, smiles, smiles - gods, her face physically _hurts_ from smiling by the time she finds it in her to finally unearth the feelings she'd been bottling up for a small eternity. “I think it's safe to say I feel the same way about you.”

Remnants of surprise linger in Natalie's features as she tilts her head at the skirmisher - it's only after a couple of seconds that such a shock gradually fades into a warm relief following sheer affection. If Natalie manages to say anything in response, Wraith is positive she couldn't hear it anyway with the way her heart pounds fervidly against her chest. Before she can drown in the habitual sea of echoes in her mind, Natalie wraps one of her arms around her neck, delight dancing in the blue of her eyes as she traces the lines of Wraith's jaw with a calloused thumb.

“But Nat, I…", Wraith breathes, closing her eyes shut again to drone out the swirl of thoughts ravaging her brain. There's so much she wants to tell her even though it cannot be put into plain words, nor has there ever been any form of speech capable of conveying it but still, she could try. It would have been _so_ easy to give in now after the sharp-tipped fences around her heart have crumbled to mere dust, but _still_ , she forces herself to pick up the pieces, unwilling to be self-indulgent and take something as precious as this without a second thought. "- You know the kind of life I live. I can't put you at risk.”

Natalie seems to consider this for a little while, pursing her lips in thought - and Wraith can't help but think how beautiful it was to have her soul laid bare before another, to have them know all of her demons by name.

“Hm… but I am already at risk, am I not?”

The touch is akin to a tether, keeping Wraith grounded among a sea of stormy thoughts as she takes a deep breath at this, leaning against Natalie's hand on her face. “Yeah. You probably are.”

“ _Oui_. First, there is the arena", Natalie begins, playful mischief sparkling in her eyes and bouncing off the curve of her smile as she contemplates, "Like you, I also play a bloodsport for a living.”

Wraith knows where this is going. She tries to protest, far too weakly to even have an expected result, but the engineer continues.

“Then, there is our ghost. We do not know what she might do when she comes back here."

Wraith feels at once like she's back at the bar, her heart drumming quickly to the tempo of a nervous song as the room spins out of focus and all that matters is the blue of Natalie's eyes, the warm hands on her cheeks, and the inebriant scent of citric perfume mixed with metal handiwork filling her lungs, at once heavy and sweet. 

“There may be other versions of you who want to target me” Natalie's thumb brushes against Wraith's bottom lip and there’s that newfound feeling building at Wraith's core again, this apprehensive captivation that reassures her that no matter how violently the ground crumbles beneath her feet, she’s got _something_ to hold onto, at least. It's an addictive thing, deliriously so, and there's that literal voice again that screams she's not worthy of it but _fuck_ , would it be so bad to have something good for once even if she doesn't deserve it, to hold something so pure she's afraid to mar it with the dark energy crackling around her tired hands?

“And there might be someone looking for you who tries to get revenge for something that _she's_ done, who sees me as your weakness”, Natalie continues, voice now dropping to a low murmur. Wraith has to force herself to keep listening. What with the way they grow closer by the second, cheeks flushed with warmth as their breaths practically dissolve against each other, she feels again the rush of sheer yearning, the surging tide of warmth writhing beneath her skin like trembling fire. 

“Not to mention the IMC... Someone might still be looking for you."

Despite the danger lurking within those words, there's nothing but tenderness in all of Natalie, she _radiates_ it, every touch exuding it. Long, bruised fingers burrow into the messy strands of cropped blond hair, fondling the engineer's nape tenderly. For a second everything becomes a blur around them, and Wraith's hazy brain registers a single thought - it's quiet, incredibly so; nothing else exists in this room but the two of them. The silence is as welcome to her as the searing touch of warm hands on her frozen skin, it's akin to coming home. She so very rarely gets to indulge in the soundlessness, so seldom gets the chance to even witness it. 

" _Oui_ , you’re right, Wraith. There are many, many risks.”

Natalie brings both hands to cup her cheeks then, thumb running over the bump of Wraith's piercing, fingers mapping out the lines of her face. She’s so fucking gentle, too, like Wraith is something precious, like the broken pieces she’s made up of will scatter if she doesn’t hold her as tenderly as possible, and _fuck_ , Wraith's far from deserving of this much care woven into every touch, she _needs_ her to be rougher, hold her closer, leave a mark because then at least she would know this was _real_.

“But you forget. I’m a scientist. I’m used to calculating risks and designing an approach.”

Her tongue feels like sandpaper against her lips as Wraith whispers, breathless and nearly untethered altogether, “And what’s that?”

Wraith's fingers trace a delicate path along the lines of Natalie's scar, tracing its forking path down to her neck and stopping over the bump of her collarbone, taking delight in the way her half-lidded eyes follow it, in the way her chest rises and falls with each quickened breath.

“I thought if I listed all the ways in which this can go wrong you would stop worrying about it and just kiss me.”

Natalie's breathless request is more than enough to break Wraith's reserve as she whispers, “Good plan.”

If there was one thing Wraith knew about herself, is that she always tried to base her life on choices.

And this? This was a pretty big one.

And yet as she closes the distance between them and throws caution to the wind, brushing her lips against Natalie's as if it was the last thing she got to do in her life, it becomes crystal clear that had been an easy one to make all along.

Natalie smiles against her lips, pushing their bodies together impossibly closer, fingers poking and prodding, simultaneously urgent and cautious in their exploration, brushing against the goosebumps dotting her skin and grasping at the fabric concealing it, wanting too much and not enough at once.

Before Wraith can let her mind sink into its far places, Natalie's quick to catch her lips again and again and again, gently at first, and then with a dizzyingly fervent intensity present in every parting and reunion of their lips, every breath melting against warm skin, every slow rise and fall of their chests. The world blurs into a kaleidoscope of glowing lights and mesmerizing scents as battle-weary arms wrap around each other among slow, open-mouthed kisses that last for a lifetime.

The saccharine taste of fruity lipgloss lingers on the tip of Wraith's tongue after they finally pull away, and there's nothing as evident as the affection written all over Natalie's lovestruck grin, nothing clearer than the sheer tenderness present in her half-lidded eyes, nothing more perfect than the way she breathes out a dopey, playful remark.

"The tea is getting cold."

"Hm. We can make more."

"Oui. Later."

Ineffable joy gives way to a second of profound revelation then; an intricately-woven, inescapable, _inextricable_ epiphany. 

The night she'd found her birthday, Natalie had told her that it didn't matter what was written on that file, that she was just glad she'd gotten to know the real Renee.

And Wraith had always wondered who that was. Had searched this realm for answers, had turned every table, knocked on every door, had turned this world upside down trying to find that out.

But now, as she presses her forehead against Natalie's and peers into the warmth of her blue eyes, Wraith knows one thing for certain about herself - she loves Natalie, enough to kill for her, enough die for her, enough to live for her. And that's not worth keeping buried anymore.

As she brings her lips against the engineer's forehead and buries her fingers in the messy strands of her hair, Wraith has an inkling of just what kind of person the real Renee might be.

And for the first time in her life, she's not scared of her.


End file.
